


Flirtation in the Workplace

by b0yfriendsinl0ve



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Flirty Louis, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, Pining, Shy Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-01 18:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0yfriendsinl0ve/pseuds/b0yfriendsinl0ve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis’ the receptionist, Harry’s shy and they’re both a bit hopeless, but especially Harry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first Larry fic, so bear that in mind when reading.
> 
> Also I'm a more dialogue than description based writer, so don't expect beautiful prose and metaphors. And I'm not really much of a writer in the first place, so...
> 
> Enjoy! And please tell me what you think :D Xx

Harry loved his job. For as long as he could remember he had always loved computers. He started with just playing computer games until the early hours of the morning, but then he started looking at how things worked. He started programming websites for him and his friends when he was 13 and he started taking his laptop apart so that he could put it back together again before he reached his A-Level’s. So it was no surprise to anyone who knew him that Harry became an IT programmer, and a good one at that.

He was currently working for an insurance company in the centre of London, and he had just been promoted to head of their IT department. This was a huge opportunity for him, but it also meant that he had to leave the peaceful sanctuary of his computer, had to leave the whole building itself, to go to the company’s main offices, across the street. He had to actually talk to people in other departments. He had never been the most sociable person. And he was dreading it.

It was on a chilly Monday in October that he first met him.

* * *

 

Harry had spent a long time staring at himself in the mirror that morning. He thought he ought to make the best impression on the people who were essentially his bosses. And apparently the best way to do that was to look like an idiot. Harry looked at his too large lips and too large eyes, half obscured by the curly nightmare that was his hair, which he had already attempted and failed to control twice today. He looked at the rest of himself, wincing from the second-hand embarrassment (well, first hand embarrassment really, considering as it was himself. But he'll definitely cause second-hand embarrassment for others today), he looked at his long torso and lankly limbs that guarantied that he would fall over at least once a day and knock over something, probably his coffee onto someone else's work. All in all he looked like a kid playing dress up. He was wearing a bow-tie for Christ's sake. But considering as he couldn't think of a more appropriate (cooler) outfit, he simply sighed and headed to work.

"Ya look fine," Niall yelled, for the fourth time, "would ya stop freakin', you're stressin' me out." He turned back to his computer, his blonde hair falling over his left eye like a curtain. His eyes seemed alight with amusement at all hours of the day, especially when drunk and except when hung-over.

Harry turned on him, "Ok, first of all, I would if I could, Niall, second, when I first got to work this morning, you couldn't stop laughing, and finally if you don't finish those tests by the time I get back, there will be some serious hell to pay."

"Geez," Niall said, turning back to his computer, "sometimes I forget you're me boss now."

"Because I’m so down to earth and fair to my team of IT geeks?"

"Coz you're such a twat, it's hard to believe anyone would put ya in any position of power," the Irish boy grinned, showing crooked teeth.

Harry reached for his coat and bag, "You're such a dick."

"Love ya too."

"Guess who's not getting a Christmas bonus this year..."

"You don't have that power."

Harry smirked, "Not yet. Wish me luck!"

"Don't die."

* * *

 

Harry stared up at the grey looking building in front of him. Surprisingly intimidating considering that it looked no different from the building opposite it, where Harry worked. But it was different, because Harry would walk in here and know practically no one, and have no idea where to go, and it was likely he'd end up having an asthma attack or a panic attack or both. Running his shaking fingers through his useless hair one more time, achieving nothing, he stepped towards the automatic doors.

"Good afternoon, Mr Styles," the overly cheery receptionist chirped, a predatorily look on his face, as Harry walked up to the desk. The boy was extremely pretty. With his feathery soft fringe lying over smooth tanned skin, piercing blue eyes surrounded by full lashes, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. He was truly beautiful. That along with the flirtatious look the boy was giving him was enough to tell Harry that he was well and truly fucked.

"I- I’m, Um…” Harry stuttered, “I- How do you know my name?”

The boy beckoned for Harry to come closer, “I know everything about everyone who works here," the boy whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Harry wasn't sure if it was a joke or not. At Harry's continued confused and terrified look the boy laughed, leaning back in his seat, "Your work ID?” the boy said, indicating the Identification tag around Harry’s neck, “You are aware that you work here, aren’t you Mr Styles?” the boy said, impish smile on his face.

“Oh, of course, I just… Um- I’m here to see Mr Payne, c- could you tell me where t- to find his... office?”

Harry didn’t think it was possible, but the boy’s grin widened even further, “Yes, sir, that is my job,” Harry chuckled awkwardly, “its room 415 on the second floor.”

“Um, thank you.”

As Harry backed away, the boy winked and said, “See you soon.”            

It had been two weeks and Harry couldn’t stop thinking about that boy at reception. A part of him wanted to go speak to him again, being only across the road from each other, but Harry knew nothing good could possible come of it. Even without his lack of social skills. But then the time came again for him to speak with Liam, one of the mangers for the project that Harry and his team were working on. Liam was one of the nicest people Harry had ever met, with big imploring brown eyes that conveyed every emotion he felt, and a genuine concern for all. Harry was glad that he was working with Liam. Since their first meeting, Liam had been coming to visit Harry often, opting to eat lunch with Harry and Niall rather than with his own co-workers.

So, Harry was on his way to a meeting with Liam, and he was more nervous than he’s been since he left school. He was nervous because he had to give a presentation on the work he and his team were doing. He was also nervous because he’d be seeing that boy again. The boy with the cyan eyes and musical laugh. Harry didn’t know which he was more anxious about.

But before he had time to figure that out he was walking into the main lobby and up to reception, looking at his feet to prolong the time before he had to speak to that beautiful boy.

“Long time, no see, Mr Styles” a silky smooth voice with a northern twang said, causing Harry’s head to snap up. Green met Blue and Harry couldn’t breathe.

“I- I’ve been, um, busy?”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” he laughed.

“Right. Sorry. Um, I’m here to see Li-”

"Mr Payne, sir, yes. The room hasn’t moved in the last two weeks, you know, you can head up there" want filled eyes raked up and down his body, "or you can stay and talk to me for a bit, I’m sure they won't mind."

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, "Um... I think I’ll head up, Liam might kill me if I’m late," seeing the disappointment replace the want in the receptionist’s eyes, he added, "But I’ll see you around..." he trailed off.

"Louis. Louis Tomlinson," he filled in for him, smirking, "and I sincerely hope so."

Harry cleared his throat again, “Right. I’ll be going then.”

The boy, _Louis_ , looked at Harry with a soft fondness that made Harry’s heart melt, and wish that he was confident enough to talk the boy. _Louis,_ Harry reminded himself, again. And knowing his name now Harry couldn’t imaging ever not knowing it, it fit him so perfectly and everything about him was just so… Louis.

Harry really wanted to tell Louis this, but decided against it. Instead he just waved and backed away from the desk, not missing how Louis laughed and waved back.

As Harry walked away he felt eyes burning into the back of his head and... Other places.

* * *

 

This became somewhat of a routine for them. Every couple of weeks, Harry would have a meeting in the main building, and would pass Louis as he went to that meeting. Louis would greet him with warm smiles, flirty winks and laugher. Sometimes Harry would even say something back to him, and at some point Louis started calling him ‘Harry’ instead of ‘Mr Styles’ and he loved the way his name sounded falling from Louis’ lips. How his mouth moved to form the word and how he smiled when he said it, the same smile that Harry dreamt about most night. His dreams, and every other aspect of his life, were filled with thoughts of the pixie-like boy at reception. Louis’ smile, Louis’ voice, Louis’ hands and what Louis could do with those hands. It was a Friday just before Christmas when things began to change.

Harry was in his office putting the finishing touches to the latest update to the software he was working on, when he heard a soft knocking at the door.

“Come in!” Harry called absentmindedly, “if this is about the program, Liam, I’m literally only seconds away from updating the-”

“Not Liam,” the angelic voice of Louis Tomlinson teased from the doorway, followed by a chime of laughter, the same laughter that Harry so wanted to save as his ringtone.

Harry let out a surprised shriek when he realised who it was and fell off his chair, causing Louis to laugh once more.

“Are you alright there, Curly?”

Harry looked up from his perch on the ground to find Louis staring down at him, amusement clear on his face, with a hand held out to Harry. He gingerly grabbed Louis’ hand, noting how smooth and warm and perfect it was, and allowed Louis to help him up.

“There you go,” Louis said, brushing imaginary dust off of Harry’s shoulders, “good as new.”

Harry gulped audibly, still feeling the indent of Louis’ fingertips on him even after he’d removed his hands, “um… thank you?”

“No problem, Curly. I’ll be more careful the next time I pay you an impromptu visit.”

Harry’s heartbeat increased considerably, “do you, erm, plan on visiting… often?”

For the first time since Harry had met him, Louis looked shy, nervous, “depends whether you like my reason for being here now, or not.”

Harry’s throat went dry and his palms started to sweat. Every part of his body was telling him to leave, to run away as fast as he could and seek medical help, because he’d lost his mind, and with each step closer Louis gets, the more unlikely Harry will ever regain his sanity.

“And… What is the- your- reason?”

Louis paused, and seemed to go through a certain degree of inner turmoil, before finally answering, “It’s my birthday next week. So, I’m having a little party tomorrow night. Nothing big, just close friends and, um, work friends just- getting together for a drink, and… I was wondering if you wanted to join me. Us.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he suddenly felt a strong need for his inhaler. Because there was no way that Louis Tomlinson would want to spend time with him out of work, let alone on his birthday and with his actual, proper, probably-way-more-confident-and-normal-than-Harry-could-ever-hope-to- be, friends. Harry must be dreaming. He didn’t want to wake up.

At Louis’ hopeful, yet apprehensive, look, Harry realised that he must have been silently staring at him for a while now, and decided that whether this were a dream or not, he knew what his answer was.

“Yeah, of course, I mean, sure.”

Louis broke out into a beautiful, radiant, dazzling smile that lit up the whole room, and harry gave himself a mental pat on the back for causing such a reaction, “that’s great, Haz, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, um, I’ll email you? Or, you know, Niall and Liam are going too, so, maybe just ask them,” Louis was blushing now, and Harry was sure that the faint pink lightly dusting Louis’ cheekbones was his new favourite colour. Right behind the blue of Louis’ eyes. “But, yeah, I’ll see you then,” he said walking towards the door.

Just before he left, he turned around with a smile, Harry raised his hand in his usual, awkward, wave and Louis waved back, laughing, as he closed the door.

* * *

 

“Oh my god, why did I say yes?!” Harry yelled, pulling clothes out of his wardrobe.

It was Saturday, 2 hours before Harry, Liam and Niall were supposed to meet Louis. And Harry may or may not be having a nervous breakdown.

“Because you want to go?” Liam replied, picking up the clothes Harry had strewn about.

Harry turned to him, “Well yes, but if I’m honest I was pretty sure that I was dreaming, I didn’t think this was actually happening.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Whatever.” Taking the clothes from Liam, he laid them out on the bed, setting about finding an outfit for tonight.

“I don’t see what you’re so worried about,” Niall chipped in, “I’m sure no matter what you do, Louis will still think the sun shines out of your arse,” Harry blushed and glared at him, “oh, come on mate. You can’t possible think anything else, right? He’s not exactly subtle. Neither of you are.”

Harry proceeded to throw a pair of jeans at Niall, causing him to fall off the bed. Silence fell between the three friends, as Niall got himself up off the floor, Liam was staring at Harry, patiently, and Harry was looking anywhere but at his two best friends, “I just- I can’t think clearly around him.”

Niall laughed, “Well shit, it’s worse than we thought.” Harry went to throw something else at him and Niall raised his hands in surrender, “I’m just trying to help.”

“If you want to help, Niall, then help me pick an outfit.”

“What do I know about fashion mate?”

“Liam, help me!”

Liam slowly sat Harry down, “Ok, breathe Harry, yeah? Wear some black skinnies and one of those loose white shirts that show off your collar bones. Louis won’t be able to resist.”

Harry nodded, grabbing the aforementioned clothes and laying them out neatly on his desk chair, “What am I supposed to say?”

Niall shrugged, “Well, what do you usually say?”

“Um, erm and lots of stuttering, really. I’m just not good at talking to people, Louis especially.”

“Well you talk to us,” Liam reminded him.

“Yeah, well you’re not perfection personified.” Harry sighed, laying back on the bed, face in his hands.

Niall gasped in mock-offence, “Cheers, mate.”

“You know what I mean,” Harry says sitting up, “I love you guys, you know that. But Louis is just-”

“Here we go-”

“Niall, shut up!” Liam snaps, throwing a pillow at him. He sits next to Harry, laying an encouraging hand on his shoulder, “Go on, Harry.”

He pauses, before talking a deep breath and beginning, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Louis is just, perfect. He’s beautiful, like breathtakingly so, and funny and smart and so kind-”

Niall stops him, a hand on Harry’s other shoulder, “Harry, no offence mate, but you yourself said you haven’t really talked to him, you don’t know anything about him.”

“Yes, but I want to,”  he shoves off both their hands and stands, pacing, “I want to know his favourite food and colour, I want to know what makes him happy, makes him laugh, I want to know what scares him so I can make sure he’s never scared again. I want to know about his family and friends and career aspirations and everything, Liam,” he turns to the boy in question, who he’d probably consider his best friend. And Niall too, despite how much of a prick he can be, he means so much to him, “And that’s what scares me the most. I want so much, but I can have it.”

Silenced settled between the three friends, no one knowing quite what to say, and Harry wishing he were anywhere else but there, and that he could just crawl up in bed and sleep.

Liam was the first to break the silence, “But why not, Harry?” Harry said nothing, “You can’t seriously think that Louis doesn’t feel the same way?”

“What makes you think that he does?”

“Because,” Liam laughed, “he won’t shut up about you.”

“Yeah, mate, every time he sees me it’s always ‘how’s Harry?', no ‘hey Niall, how are you?’ it’s all ‘Harry, Harry, Harry.’” Niall was practically jumping up and down with eagerness.

“He even asked me to arrange more meetings with you so that he could see him more.”

Harry couldn’t keep the hopeful smile off his face, “R- really?”

“YES!” the two exasperated boys replied, smiles on their faces and amusement in their eyes.

And for just one moment, Harry allowed himself the possibility that what Niall and Liam were saying was true. He considered what it might be like if Louis did like him back. And he liked how that idea felt, “But… W-what do I do?”

Liam stood up, pulling Niall with him, “You be you.”

Harry smiled, bright and genuine, “Ok.”

* * *

 

As the three of them approached the bar they were meeting at, Harry started getting nervous. That’s not say he wasn’t nervous beforehand. Harry’s pretty sure that he’s been anxious about one thing or another since he was born, but he’s definitely been uneasy since Louis invited him to this, if not since the moment he met the golden-skinned, honey-haired, sun-god that was Louis Tomlinson.

“Are you sure it’s not too late to head back? I’ve got a good movie collection, we could have a marathon or something?” Harry said, stopping.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we are not going through this again.” Liam all but dragged harry into the bar, and he was met with the sight of sweaty dancers, sound of heavy music, and smell of stale alcohol.

Then all of his senses were overwhelmed with an armful of Louis, as the smaller boy had thrown himself into Harry’s embrace. This was the first time the boys had done anything more than hold hands, purely in a ‘Louis-helping-Harry-up-when-he’s-fallen-over’ sort of way, but Harry was addicted. Addicted to the feel of Louis’ soft, warm skin against his fingertips, the weight of another body pressed to his, the smell of vanilla and vodka and his bubbly voice as he murmured in Harry’s ear. He wasn’t sure what Louis was saying, exactly, because he was too distracted by Louis’ warm breath against his neck.

As Louis stopped rambling, Harry decided in would be a good time to say something, namely, “Happy birthday.”

Louis pulled back, and even in the dim light of the bar around them, Harry could see every detail of the boy’s face. Every freckle on his nose and each individual eye-lash. Either because of how close they still were to each other, or because Harry had more or less memorised Louis’ face by this point, “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here,” then Louis realised that there were other people with them and hastily pulled back, clearing his throat, “And Liam, Niall, you too,” he then attacked them with hugs, leaving Harry confused and slightly empty.

Louis turned back to him and Harry got a good look at what he was wearing. Louis’ hair was messily styled on his forehead and there was a light dusting of stubble on his cheek that Harry wanted to Lick. If Harry was trying to ‘show off’ his collar bones, then god knows what Louis was doing. All harry knew was that Louis t-shirt accentuated his muscled arms as well as his neck and all Harry could think about was biting it and littering his neck with marks. “You look good.” He said to Louis.

Louis raised a hand to rest on Harry’s chest, fingertips brushing where his skin was exposed, “Speak for yourself.”

“Keep it PG,” yelled a boy, about their age, from behind Louis.

Louis turned to the boy, smirking, “Mind your manners.”

The boy laughed, “You’re one to talk!”

“Anyway, Liam, Niall, Harry, this is Stan. He’s one of my oldest and most idiotic friends. And Stan; Liam, Niall, Harry.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you guys. Some more than others.” Harry could have sworn that Stan had directed that at him. Louis elbowed Stan in the ribs.

“We should get you guys some drinks. This way gentlemen!”

With drinks in hand (Harry and Niall a pint, and Liam just water because of something to do with his kidney, Harry wasn’t sure) they settled into a booth near the back of the bar. Harry observed how Louis and Stan interacted with each other. He could tell by the easy banter they exchanged that they were good friends, and by Stan’s accent, the same as Louis’, that they must have been friends for quite a while. Undoubtedly since their early school days. This made Harry feel out of place, knowing that not only did Niall and Liam know more about Louis than he did, but Stan probably knew more about Louis than anyone else, other than his family.

About an hour, and two drinks, later, a tall dark figure approached their table. As the silhouette drew closer, Harry was able to make out the features of the man’s face.  The guy was one of the most beautiful things Harry had ever seen, aside from Louis of course. He had dark eyes and dark hair and a dark mysterious air about him. Everything about him screamed bad boy, only aided by the leather jacket and the unlit cigarette between his fingers. His Hair was styles in a high quiff and there was a smirk on his lips.

“Anyone got a light?”

Louis snapped out of the conversation he had been having with Niall, and focused his attention on the stranger, “Zayn, you dick, where have you been?” he said, as he launched himself on the newcomer.

Ok, maybe not a stranger.

"Oh, you know," he muttered noncommittally, pulling back, "fashionably late, as always." The guy, Zayn, smirked, and Harry didn't like the way he was looking at Louis. His Louis.

"Well get yourself a drink, you idiot, and join us."

Zayn smiled and walked away, leaving Harry more than slightly confused.

Part of Harry, ok most of Harry, wanted to ask Louis who this Zayn guy was, in general and to Louis, but he felt that would come across as quite strange to have a sudden interest in Louis’... Friends... when Harry hadn’t said much more than two words so far. Liam, noticing his distress, asked as casually as he could, "So, who's that?"

Louis, who had returned to his conversation with Niall about the latest series of Doctor Who, turned to him, "What, Zayn?" Liam nodded, and if you were paying enough attention you would have notice Harry's head twitch, suppressing a nod of his own. "He's a mate from Uni. He's great, he's always up for a laugh and seems to have some form of illegal drug with him wherever he goes, just in case you're in the mood for anything."

Liam nearly chocked on nothing at the new information, "You mean he's a... Drug dealer?"

Louis chuckled, "Possibly. But he's also a primary school teacher, so who knows. He's also great for a quickie if you're feeling lonely."

"What?" Harry gasped. All heads tuned to him, sympathetic looks on Niall and Liam's faces, a gleeful one on Stan's, as Louis looked at him blankly. Harry avoided everyone's eyes, "I mean... Are you two...? T-together, then?"

"Nah, not for a few years now."

Harry turned to see that it was the wrong Yorkshire native that had spoken, as it was Stan who had answered. Louis sat there in silence, unmoving, no different from 10 seconds before, but just as beautiful, if not more. His blank expression turned to one of curiousness, his eyes shining with what might have been hope at Harry's response. The conversation resumed, with Louis joining in somewhat wearily, and Liam patting Harry consolingly on the leg.

"I need some air." Harry said, smiling reassuringly at Louis' look of concern. He rose to his feet and stumbled across the bar floor to the exit.

Once outside in the cool night air, Harry was finally able to think clearly. He felt uneasy and strange. Maybe even a bit... Jealous.

He had no reason to be jealous. No, he had reason just no right to be jealous. He didn't own Louis in any shape or form and there was no evidence that this _Zayn_ guy and Louis were together. Currently, at least. And even if they were, Harry wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Louis can date whomever he likes.

But Harry wanted to be the whomever Louis liked.

As if thinking the older boy’s name so much had summoned him, Louis approached, laying a calming, yet pulse quickening, hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," a soft, melodic, voice said from behind him.

After a few seconds of silence, he replied, "Hi."

Harry sat down on the edge of the pavement, detaching himself from Louis' touch. He was relying on their lack of physical contact to keep him mind straight. No such luck.

Louis sat down beside him, with only an inch separating their denim covered thighs. Harry could feel the heat radiating off of Louis, but it still wasn't close enough.

"What's wrong?" He asked so quietly and sweetly that Harry's heart proceeded to both melt and grow with fondness simultaneously. Yet Harry wouldn't turn to look at him.

Harry took a few deep breaths so as to slow his heart rate down, "I- I just..." he didn't want to tell Louis the truth, no matter what Liam and Niall said for he had no proof that Louis liked him back. And Harry was a guy of logic, fact and video games. But the last one was irrelevant at this moment in time. "I'm just can't cope in this sort of setting. It's too claustrophobic and there are so many people and-" Harry cut himself off, still avoiding looking at Louis.

Louis hand had returned to its former place on Harry's back, right between his shoulder blades, "And what, Harry?"

"And. I just can’t cope with this much social... ness. It's too much pressure."

"Is that why you haven't said anything?" Louis had leaned closer to him, his warm breath hitting Harry's ear.

"When do I ever say anything? Whenever I open my mouth, or move or even breathe I just make a fool out of myself."

The warm shape of Louis' palm slid down his back and slowly moved to grip his waist, as his head fell to rest on Harry's shoulder. He was now surrounded by Louis, his smell and his touch, and Harry was mesmerised.

“Is this ok?” Louis asked as he moved just that bit closer, so that their sides were pressed together, shoulder to thigh.

Harry was once again having trouble breathing, and was surprised that he hadn’t had a Louis induced panic attack yet, “Um… Yeah?”

Louis hummed in amusement, “You should be surer of yourself, you always sound like you’re asking a question rather than answering one. Be more confident.”

“Yeah, I lack that.”

“What, confidence?”

“Confidence… or social skills entirely, either, or…”

“That’s not true Harry. You are so good at leading your team and that takes social skills-”

“No, but it’s different. I know what to say then, and I know what I’m talking about. That is pretty much all I know how to talk about and my team and my family are the only people I can talk to.”

Silence fell between the two of them, yet neither moved for they were both enjoying the physical contact too much. After several long, intimate, moments, Louis slowly started to pull away and Harry had to stop himself from letting out a whine of protest. But seconds later, delicate fingers reached out to touch his cheek, and Harry finally turned to look at Louis.

The boy was glowing, whether from the joy of his birthday or the alcohol, Harry didn’t know but it made Louis look fragile and ethereal and absolutely breath taking. Once Harry started looking, he couldn’t stop, and he let his eyes wander from the fine strands of Louis’ hair, to his cerulean irises, to the curve of his nose and back again, before finally resting on the cherry-pink of his lips.

Louis' licked his lips and Harry followed the motion, before glancing up and Louis' eyes again and seeing them transfixed on Harry's mouth. Just when Harry was maybe, possibly (probably not), building up the courage to lean in and feel Louis' lips against his own, a drunk Irishman interrupted them.

"Louis ya cunt, ya can't ditch the party, you're the birthday boy!!"

Louis sighed in annoyance, and Harry felt the breath hit his face, warm and inviting, but then Louis was standing up and offering him a hand. He pulled Harry to his feet, then lent in to whisper in his ear, "You're alright, yeah?"

When he pulled away, Harry could do nothing more than nod, shakily, and then Louis was gone, yelling as he went, "C'mon, let's get fucked, by the state of you Niall, I have a hell of a lot of catching up to do."

The drinks flowed, with only a bit if spillage on Niall's part, and the banter continued and this time Harry allowed himself to partake, if only with Niall and Liam, as Louis smiled in encouragement.

Harry was trying his best to be civil towards Zayn, or rather tried to ignore him all together, but he couldn't help but scoff when the dark haired boy told a joke, incorrectly thinking it was funny, and when the lad pulled Louis up and onto the dance floor, Harry couldn't hold back the glare he sent his way.

It was nearing midnight and all but Harry were dancing, him having offered to stay in the booth and watch their stuff so as not to make a fool out of himself attempting to dance. As Niall, Liam and Stan arrived back at the table, in the middle of a heated debate about football that Harry didn't even try to keep up with, he decided that he should talk to Louis. He had spent his time sitting alone thinking about what Liam and Niall had said, and even Stan's words at their meeting. He even spared a thought for his and Louis', for lack of a better word 'moment', earlier. Louis had invited him to his birthday party, with only close friends, and what other reason would Louis have for inviting him, Harry wasn't exactly a great conversationalist. It all had to mean something, even if he had the remotest chance with Louis, he was positive that he should take that chance, it was torture seeing Louis but not having him as his own.

With the liquid courage he had gained from the few drinks he had had, Harry stood up, and, without an explanation to answer his friends’ inquisitive looks, he set about finding Louis on the dance floor. He pushed through the sweaty bodies (that had thinned down considerably in the last hour or so, many people probably opting to head to a better club while the night was still young) before catching a glimpse of Louis' feathered locks in amongst the crowd.

What he saw had him frozen to the spot.

Louis and Zayn were locked in a, shall we say 'passionate', embrace with no distinction when one boy become the other. They were making out in the middle of a semi-crowded bar and Harry felt sick. He noted how Louis looked like this, skin flushed and hands fisted in Zayn's shirt, and memorised the sound of his gasps and breathy moans. His clothes were disheveled and his hair was all over the place, and Harry decided that no matter what he did Louis would always look wonderful and otherworldly. Half of Harry was enjoying seeing Louis in this state, remembering it for, ahem, 'future reference', but the other half of him couldn't bear to see Louis like this, with _Zayn_. Zayn with a possessive hand on Louis' lower back. Zayn with Louis' tongue down his throat. Zayn who was the only person who matched Louis in beauty and therefore was the obvious choice for him.

Harry refused to cry even though it felt like his heart had shattered in to a million shards of glass that were tearing his insides apart. It was at that point, when Louis finally saw him and pulled away from Zayn and their eyes met, that Harry knew he was _in love_ with this boy. This perfect, gorgeous, unattainable boy. Louis reached out to him, but he just turned and ran for the door without looking back. Even when he heard Liam yelling after him, then Louis' distinctly elegant voice, he kept running.

Harry doesn't remember ever stopping.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis’ the receptionist, Harry’s shy and they’re both a bit hopeless, but especially Harry.

Unrequited love is a strange feeling. Harry’s never felt it before, well, he’s never even been in love in the first place before, but he knows this is an experience he could live without. The sensation of giving some one your heart in any situation leaves you fragile and exposed, but when they’re not even aware that they have your very soul, wholly and completely, you’re left unprotected and lost. And you feel so empty, Harry just feels empty. Being in love fills you with joy and all these other amazing feelings that you cannot feel in any other situation. Having your heart broken leaves you utterly destroyed and alone, so much so that even breathing is such agony that you feel like you’d rather die than go through it another day. But unrequited love, after the joy wears off can leave you feeling nothing. You give your heart away but you don’t get one back to fill its place. You don’t get the comforts of another person loving you. You need to be tethered down just to stop from floating away.

The only thing that Harry feels right now is stupidity and embarrassment. He spent all his time rightfully denying the possibility of Louis’ - _his_ \- ‘feelings’ for him, and then the one moment he allows himself the benefit of the doubt and takes his shield down, he gets shot. He has no right to blame Louis, he didn’t do anything wrong, really. Harry is just a stupid boy with a stupid crush and stupid friends that get his hopes up for no reason. Louis is free to do as he chooses. And Harry hopes that he and Zayn are very happy together. That’s not true, he hopes they’re miserable. No. He never wants Louis to be miserable, he deserves all the happiness and love in the world. He hopes Zayn is miserable. Although it’d be impossible to be miserable with Louis, because Louis is sunshine, and laughter and youth personified, his happiness is infectious. So Harry knows that they must be happy together, because with Louis, there’s no other option.

* * *

 

On the 6th of January Harry returned to work. He was tempted to phone in sick that morning, trying to avoid an encounter with _you know who_ (he’s called Harry and he’s avoiding someone who shouldn’t be named. Brilliant.), but Harry loved his job too much to miss a day of computers. He really was a nerd.

As he entered the IT department he was greeted with the loud, quite annoying at this time in the morning, voice of his Irish co-worker, “Well look who it is. Cinderella.”

Harry ignored him and continued on the way to his office, “Shut up Niall.”

Niall just followed him, “Well you ran away at midnight.”

“Please.” Harry didn’t want to get into all this, he already felt like an idiot for assuming things, and he just wanted to move on and get to work. Harry sat down at his desk, turning his two computers on and began setting up for the day ahead, assuming that the conversation was over.

Niall however, wasn’t finished. He sat down in the chair opposite Harry, making himself comfortable before speaking, “Ya rushed off so quickly… before… I didn’t get to wish ya a merry Christmas,” Niall sounds drunk on both sherry and Christmas joy and Harry resents him for it.

“Look I appreciate the small talk, really I do, but if you could so kindly do you work, that would also be useful.”

Niall stiffened and looked at him bewildered, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. “What?”

“Niall, this is where we both work, it’s about 9:30 am so the working day has begun, and I am your boss.”

“Oh. I’ll go then.” Niall got up slowly, giving Harry every opportunity to stop him and say he was joking, but he didn’t. This was probably the first time that Harry had ever acted like he was Niall’s boss. Yes he knew he was but he never behaved any differently towards Niall. And Harry hated ‘abusing his power’ like that but he just wasn’t in the mood for chit chat.

In fact he wasn’t in a ‘chit chat’ mood all day, and he didn’t even leave his office at lunch. Harry couldn’t even concentrate on work, but he knew that if he stopped trying his mind would be filled with Louis. Damn him and his good looks and sense of humour and the fact that he’s noticeable shorter than Harry that Harry never knew that was a thing for him. But right. Computers. Coding. Work. Stuff.

* * *

 

“Knock, knock.”

Harry looked up, preparing to yell at Niall, or Aiden or whoever it was trying, in vain, to get him to talk, before he saw that it was Liam that was at the door, “Before you say anything, Liam, is this a personal or work based visit?”

Liam pulled a face that was probably supposed to be a mix between incredulous and offended, but just resulted in him looking like he was experiencing heart palpitations, “Work,” he scoffed, “it’s during work hours and I am nothing if not professional.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, sceptical, but Liam simply smiled back, “Right. How can I help you, then?”

Liam closed the door behind him and took a step towards Harry, “What happened with Louis?”

Harry’s heart twanged painfully at the mention of Louis’ name. He stared at Liam, “Are you saying you don’t know?” he asked, bitterly.

Liam looked shocked by his response, yet please that he had responded at all, “No I- I know, I just want to talk to you about it.”

“You said you were here for work related business.” Harry sighed.

Liam looked at him with pleading eyes, but Harry just looked away, “Fine, business. Our bi-weekly meetings are to become weekly meetings instead.”

Harry’s head snapped back up and his mind started spinning. Those meetings meant seeing Louis, and seeing Louis meant remembering Louis with Zayn, and remembering Louis with Zayn would probably lead Harry to have a break-down in the middle of the lobby, “Do I have to go?”

“They’re about your project.”

Harry was desperately searching for any escape, “Are they just us two?”

“No, the rest of the management team as well.”

Any excuse not to see Louis, despite how childish Harry knew he was being, “And there’s no chance we can have the meetings here, realistically that would make it easier for me, I mean all my equipment is here.”

“Harry, you know we can’t.”

Liam looked annoyed, but not at Harry and his aversion to the meetings. He seemed annoyed with himself. Like he wished with all his might that he could help his friend and knew that in some way it was his fault that he couldn’t. Liam had a job to do, even though it pained him to do it.

Harry was silent for a moment, urgently racking his brain for any more ideas. Suddenly he stood up and walked over to Liam, desperation in his eyes, “Can I send Niall in my place?”

“Are you really that determined to avoid him?”

“Can I send Niall in my place?”

“It’s supposed to be the _head_ of departments.”

“Liam, not as my boss but as my friend. Can I send Niall in my place?”

Liam stood staring at Harry, searching his eyes to see if this was really what he wanted, “This isn’t going to help anything.” But Harry looked so fragile in that moment, and rather like Puss in Boots from Shrek, that Liam couldn’t put him through any more pain. He sighed, “Alright.”

“Thank you,” Harry pulled him into a hug trying to convey to Liam just how thankful he was.

Liam hugged him back and whispered in his ear, “Would seeing him really be that bad.” Harry only squeezed Liam tighter in response, “He really wants to talk to you, you know.”

Harry pulled back, eyes shining with unshed tears, “I really can’t, Liam.”

Liam smiled sadly, turning to leave. “You’re gonna have to see him at some point.” He called, before closing the door behind him.

Harry knew it was true but he refused to believe it. He filled Niall in on everything he needed for the meeting, and Niall proceeded to blow everyone away at said meeting. Harry was proud of how well Niall did, and glad that he himself didn’t have to go. But he also felt a little bit jealous. He had thought that Niall was going to be made head of the department, rather than himself. Niall was really good at his job and so confident with himself and speaking to others, he was so much better at all this than Harry, so he was surprised when he himself got promoted. But he thought he was doing alright, all things considered.

Weeks past, Niall was still amazing, Liam brought them lunch every day, Harry was talking again and he still hadn’t seen Louis. The last one didn’t last long.

Niall came running into Harry’s office, out of breath and red faced. His arms were filled with random pieces of paper and other documents and a laptop bag was hooked over his shoulder, “Harry, someone needs you to look at their computer.”

Harry was confused for two reasons: 1, Niall wasn’t supposed to be here right now and 2, in all his time working there, Harry had never been called to fix someone’s computer, “What? Aren’t there people for that?”

Niall smirked, “We are the IT department.”

“Not that kind of IT.” Harry sighed.

“We can’t not help them, it’s important.”

Harry, resigning himself to the fate of become like the typical IT department worker, stood up and collected up his things, “Who is it?”

Niall hesitated, but only for a moment, “Louis.”

Harry paled, unable to form any words other than Louis’ name and he was desperately trying not to freak out, “You have got to be kidding me.” Harry laughed, humourlessly, “Really, is this a joke, Niall?” Harry looked down at his desk and picked a few memos up, trying to read them, but the words blurred together into one big mess.

“He texted saying he’s shit at computers and he needs help.”

Harry pretended to consider this for a few seconds, before smiling up at Niall “Well then you go.”

“Usually me or one of the other guys do it, but I’m already going to that stupid meeting thing,” Niall gestured to the paper in his hands, “ya can’t make me do all your work.”

Harry sat back down, “You’re going to pass Louis anyway.” Niall raised his eyebrows at him, sceptically, “Send Aiden or Matt, then.”

“Aiden’s coming with me and Matt’s working-”

“So am I.” Harry was whining now, like a child, but he didn’t care.

“On the finance report. That’s due tomorrow.”

“We need more IT people.”

“No we don’t.” Niall was yelling now, “What we need is for you to put aside your so-called-pride while you fix his computer.” Harry said nothing, and Niall sighed as he walked over to Harry, tone softer than before, “Look Harry I understand why ya don’t want to, but Louis is the company’s head receptionist and without a computer he’s fucked. You’re not gonna risk his job because you’re scared.”

Harry looked up at Niall, trying to look more confident than he felt, “I’m not scared.” He meant to sound sure and strong, but it came out as more of a whimper.

Niall chuckled, “Well go then.” He walked out of the office and Harry begrudgingly followed him.

* * *

 

With one word Harry’s whole world came crumbling down again, “Hi” Louis whispered, shock evident on his face.

Harry couldn’t breathe. Louis was sat at his desk, just as perfect as ever, not a hair out of place and a timid smile on his lips, and Harry couldn’t help but think how much of a mess he must look in comparison. Hearing Louis voice again was like listening to an old song you used to love but hadn’t heard in years.

Harry wanted to tell him how much he missed him. What he actually said was, “Good afternoon. What’s wrong with your computer?”

Louis smile faltered, but he got out of his seat, gesturing for Harry to take his place. Harry hesitated before making his way around the desk and sitting. He thought he felt soft fingertips on his shoulder as he sat down, but dismissed that as his body’s desperation at being this close to Louis. Louis sat down on the desk, body tilted towards Harry, and Harry had to use all his self-control not to stare at the strong muscles in Louis thighs, straining against the material of his skin-tight jeans.

“I don’t know, it just keeps crashing.” Louis replied, and Harry had to think a moment before remembering what he had asked in the first place, “And before you ask, I have tried turning it off and on again, but that’s kind of the problem anyway, so…” Harry looked up at him and regretted it instantly, felling like he couldn’t blink so as not to miss even a millisecond of looking at this man in front of him, “It keeps turning itself off? And I turn it on again… No?”

Harry kept staring a Louis and Louis stared back. Now that he was closer, Harry could see the dark circles under Louis’ eyes, eyes that were still such a beautiful sky blue but had lost some of their vibrancy. Harry could also see stress lines carved into Louis’ skin and stubble blooming on his cheek. Harry found the latter extremely hot. Despite how worn down and tired Louis looked, he was still the most breath-taking thing Harry had ever seen. Even more so. Louis seemed more real, more human, losing his ethereal glow in his exhaustion but appearing to Harry, for the first time, like just another boy with real problems. But he was still perfect. For the first time, Harry didn’t feel intimidated or scared by Louis, like he couldn’t even comprehend his existence, he felt like he understood him more. Harry finally tore his eyes away from tracing Louis’ jawline, and looked at the offending computer in front of him, “I’ll have a look at it.”

They sat in silence as Harry set about fixing the problem, aiming to get away as soon as possible, before he lost his resolve. Harry had nearly fixed the issue when Louis stopped him, by laying his hand over Harry’s on the mouse, “I need to explain to you.” Harry’s breathing was ragged and his heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that he was sure Louis could hear it, “Zayn and I are just friends, I mean we used to be, you know, but not anymore, not for years.” Harry gulped, took a shuddering breath, savoured the feeling of Louis’ hand on his before shaking him off and getting back to work, “That’s just what Zayn and I do when we’re drunk.” He pleaded, desperately.

Harry turned back to him, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I understand. I heard from somewhere that he's ‘great for a quickie if you're feeling lonely’.”

Louis looked like Harry had shot him, pain and betrayal mingling in his eyes. Harry wanted to take it all back. “Please don’t use my words against me.”

Harry sighed, “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Louis looked delighted that Harry was responding at all, leaning closer to Harry as he spoke, “I feel like I’ve let you down, like I’ve lied to you or something.” Louis reached out cautiously and lightly held Harry’s chin, turning his head so that their gazes met, “Please don’t hate me. I don’t think I can cope with you hating me.”

 _I don’t hate you, I love you,_ Harry thought, “I don’t, you were having a party with your friends, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Harry said.

Louis moved his hand so that it was caressing Harry’s cheek, “Then why won’t you talk to me?”

Harry manoeuvred his head out of Louis’ grip and turned back to the computer, “Please, Louis, I’m trying to work.”

Louis deflated beside him, and he appeared so small and fragile, Harry wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him safe, all Harry did was click on random folders and files so that it looked like he was actually doing something productive.

“How was your Christmas?” a small voice asked him.

“Fine.” Harry lied. He had his most dejected and lonely Christmas yet, as he didn’t go home to Cheshire, and spent the day watching ‘F.R.I.E.N.D.S.’ reruns by himself.

“Will you please just look at me, Haz?”

Harry flinched at the nickname, “Mr Styles.” He corrected him, against his better judgement, “We are in a work environment and it is inappropriate to refer to me as anything but Mr Styles.”

“Seriously?” Louis sounded angry now, Harry didn’t know what to do.

“You can call me ‘sir’ is you wish.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say when Louis hopped off the desk and stood towering over him.

“Wow. This is probably the most I’ve ever heard you say in one conversation. _Sir._ And honestly, I’d rather never hear you say another word, if all it’ll be is spiteful.”

Harry turned the chair until he could stand up, edging away from Louis, “I needn’t say another word to you, Niall’s going to the management meetings now.” Harry was no longer in control of what he was saying, it seemed, as his words hurt Louis and himself by saying them.

Louis stepped towards him, causing Harry to cower away despite their height difference, “When did you become so cruel? The Harry I knew would never say a rude word about anyone. Except himself, of course.” He added, viciously.

“Mr Tomlinson-”

“I’m not angry with you.” Harry could see it was true, as Louis’ eyes were filled with confusion and hurt and so many other horrible things, but not anger, “You have every reason to behave like this, but I miss you.” Harry said nothing, couldn’t say anything. He knew that whatever he may say would only make things worse. Louis still looked hopeful in spite of it all, “Is this part of your coping mechanism?” He seemed to be reassuring himself more than actually asking Harry, “If it is then please, continue. Just please forgive me as well.”

The room was deadly silent, and the only two people in the whole world were Louis and Harry. The tension in the air was thick, and Harry knew that this was a make or break moment. “Mr Tomlinson, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Louis face is blank of all emotion, and his eyes are stone cold, “No, Mr Styles. Thank you for your time, Mr Styles.” Harry nods his head and back away from Louis, leaving the building all together.

Instead of heading back to his office, Harry simply trudges back home, heart still racing and trying not to cry. Seeing Louis again had reopened the scars Harry had tried desperately to hide. He didn’t know why Louis affected him as much as he did, and while most of him hated that he couldn’t get the Yorkshire lad out of him mind, a part of him loved it. No matter how much he tried to deny it, just thinking of Louis made his insides light up like a firework. And in truth, his days without seeing Louis were dull. He laughed less and he seemed to be shying away from the world. Harry hadn’t even known that Louis had brought him out of his shell, had knocked down his walls with such force, it was difficult to rebuild them again. And that was the main problem. He felt unprotected and exposed and he didn’t know how to fix it.

Harry had always had problems with being open with people. And even after the many years of counselling he was forced to sit through, he was still as quiet as he was before. Harry remembers over hearing his counsellor telling him mum that he had abandonment issues because of his father leaving them. Harry knew that that was probably true. His dad left when he was 7, something he had refused to talk about with anyone, even his counsellor. But she still knew, annoyingly. That’s what counsellors do, they weed out any and all information they can about you, come up with ridiculous diagnosis’s and then proceed to tell your family all about them despite their rule on secrecy and trust. Apparently, because Harry’s dad left, he had trouble letting anyone in incase they left him again. Bullshit, Harry thought. Just because he’s shy, doesn’t mean he has trust issues. He just prefers to be alone.

But the more Harry thinks about it, the more he believes it might be true. Niall and Liam were some of the only people Harry had ever let in, and that was slow, earning his trust bit by bit, but Louis… Louis, to quote Miley Cyrus, ‘came in like a wrecking ball’ and Harry didn’t know how to cope. Doesn’t know how to cope. And now Louis has pretty much rejected him and left him for this amazingly beautiful, no doubt confident and fun guy that Harry can’t stand just for the reason that he’s the one Louis chose. Zayn is the one Louis chose. Harry want’s to cry again. Harry doesn’t do that. What Harry does do is phone in sick for the last two days of the week so he doesn’t have to go to work.

Niall phones him that Saturday, promising Harry that he’s not trying to talk about Louis, he was just seeing how his friend was. Harry’s sat slumped on his sofa, in his trackies, alone, on a Saturday night. He isn’t doing well.

“You calling about the latest report?” Harry asks, after ensuring Niall that he was perfectly alright, thank you very much.

“Nah mate, you know I love my job but I never stay at home working on a Saturday night.”

Harry didn’t understand why Niall was calling then, “Oh, are you going to a party or something?”

Niall laughed, loud and extravagant, “Something.”

Harry didn’t like his tone, as if Niall knew something that he didn’t, “What?” he asked. And then he heard a knock at the door “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry begrudgingly got off the sanctuary that was his couch and trudged to open the door, unsurprised at seeing a certain Irish twat standing there, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, nice to see ya too,” Niall went to walk in but Harry blocked the way.

“What do you want, Niall?” Harry wasn’t really in the mood for this, as it had been a long week of sleeping and crying and eating and he wanted to stick to his newfound routine.

“I want to see one of me best mates,” Harry glared at him, unconvinced, “I have beer?”

Well, Harry could fit that into his busy schedule, “Get your arse in here Horan.”

Several drinks, and episodes of ‘F.R.I.E.N.D.S.’ later, the unavoidable subject arose.

“You know what we need to talk about.”

Harry knew what he was talking about, but ignored him in favour of watching the TV, “If you want help with the reports, you just have to ask-”

Niall threw a pillow at him, “You know what I mean, ya cunt.”

Harry studied him, trying to work out if Niall was in a serious of jokey mood. When all he saw was concern in his best mate’s eyes, he turned the TV off, “What do you want, Nialler?”

“You have got to get over this.”

Harry feigned innocence, “What, get _over_ Louis?”

“If that’s what ya wanna do, you just need to stop this nonsense. Kiss and make up, just make up and be friends again, or if ya want to, ‘get over’ him.”

He scoffed, “Why? I’m fine how we are-”

“No ya not.” Harry was shocked at how sure he sounded. “First of all ya miss him and ya quite like him and ya want him, yeah? And, I miss him, and Liam misses him, and we are takin’ your side but we don’t want to have to choose between two mates. That’s not fair on us or Louis.”

Harry was truly sick of having this conversation, sick of people telling him what to do because _they_ think that’s what’s best for him, “Why should I care?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Niall laughed, for the first time, humourlessly, “I dunno, but ya do. Maybe it’s because he’s a hilarious, lovely bloke and you’ve got the hots for him.”

Harry didn’t bother denying it, they both knew it was true, “How… is he?”

“Not great, mate.” Something in Harry twinged with pain, “He thinks you hate him, and he won’t forgive himself.”

A sense of sadness overtook Harry, “Why should _he_ care?”

Niall sigh and reached for two fresh beers, passing one to Harry, “When will ya finally understand that Louis likes you?”

Harry sat up, “At his party-”

“Are you seriously basing all this shit on that one mistake?”

Harry had never seen Niall this worked up before, he was usually a happy-go-lucky guy who was impossible to aggravate, “What else am I supposed to do, ignore it? He hurt me Niall.”

Niall looked at him strangely, having some sort of internal monologue, before putting his beer down (which Harry had never seen him do voluntarily if the beer wasn’t empty) and turning to him, “Why?”

Harry wasn’t expecting the question, “Because- Because I-”

“-like Louis and was jealous of Zayn.”

Harry hesitated. That was essentially what had happened wasn’t it? “Maybe.”

Niall sighed, “Look mate, you know I’ll be on your side no matter what, but you’re being ridiculous.” That look returned to Niall’s face, the look that said ‘I know what you’re thinking and you know I’m right’, “What are you afraid of?”

Harry resigned himself to the fact that there was no point lying to Niall, “I- I. I’m scared I’d fuck it up-”

“Too late for that now.” Niall muttered.

“I’m not good with people, or relationships, and even if we gave it a shot I’d end up fucking it up sooner or later. I don’t even know how to be in a relationship.”

Niall sat silently, pensive, “Well. Do you and Louis get on?”

Harry frowned, “Not right now-”

“But yeah. Do you like him?”

“I- I think I love him Ni.” Harry couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

Niall smiled back, “Then you should be willin’ to be with him no matter what. There’s always a chance things will go to shit, it’s the same with all relationships, romantic or otherwise. But if you like, or _love_ , someone. Then you should enjoy that.”

Harry thought about it. About Louis and his friends and pretty much everything in his life, and for the first time he realised that things were never as bad as he thought they were. It was, unsurprisingly, a fairly eye-opening realisation. “But what do I do? I’ve already fucked it up, I’d be surprised if Louis ever talked to me again.”

Niall stood up and actually collected up the empty beer bottles, taking them to the kitchen as he yelled over his shoulder, “And I’d be surprised if he ever stopped tryin’ to apologise.” He reappeared in the door way, “If you build it, he will come.”

“You’re such an arse.” Harry chucked a pillow at him, but Niall dodged it just in time.

“I know.”

Niall walked back to the sofa and sat down next to Harry, putting an arm around his shoulders and allowing Harry to rest his head against his neck, as the two friends so often did, “Thanks, Ni.”

“’s nothin’, just don’t fuck it up again, I’m sick of givin’ ya these encouraging pep talks.”

* * *

 

Harry once again found himself staring at the building before him, trying to draw up the courage to go in. He didn’t know what to say to Louis, or if Louis would even listen to him in a non-professional setting. But he had to try.

Before he could change his mind, he marched through the automatic doors and up to the reception, like he had so many times before. And like all the times before, there sat Louis. He looked even more tired than the week before, his skin having lost its shine, but like Harry already knew, Louis was stunning no matter want.

He was staring intently at his computer screen, typing away furiously. His brows were furrowed and he was biting his lip and he looks absolutely adorable. Whereas Harry would have been perfectly content to stand their gawking at him, he had things he needed to do. Both with Louis and actual work, so he cleared his throat to get Louis’ attention.

Louis looked up and his eyes widened in shocked. An emotion Harry couldn’t identify filled Louis’ eyes. He looked at Harry, waiting for him to speak, but when he didn’t Louis cleared his throat, dullness returning to his eyes, “Can I help you, Mr Styles?”

“Yeah,” Harry swallowed nervously, “I’d like to make an appointment.”

“Oh. Who with, sir?” Louis said, typing something into the computer.

Harry took a deep breath, “You,” he licked his lips nervously, “Dinner. Tonight. At, er, 7 o’clock.” Louis looked at him questioningly, checking to see if he was joking or not, “If you want to, that is.”

Louis looked at him for a long time, eyes scanning his face then giving the rest of him a once over. _Twice_ over. Then he hummed noncommittally, flicking through some paperwork on his desk, before smirking, “I’m sure I could squeeze you in somewhere.”

* * *

 

Later that night, after an above-average meal at a decent restaurant, where Harry only made a fool out of himself once (He tripped a waiter up, but with legs like Harry’s, someone’s bound to fall over), they found themselves strolling down the street in silence, towards where Louis had parked his car, hands an inch a part but not touching. Harry had given Louis’ his coat, despite Louis’ protests, because of the cold February night.

Louis’ the first to break the silence, “They said it’s supposed to snow tonight.” Harry hummed in response, not knowing what to say, so Louis continued, “I’ve always loved winter, and snow in particular. It’s just so beautiful,” Louis was smiling blissfully. “The white specs falling, distinct against the dark sky, the blanket of silver covering the earth and the way kids play. Like snow is their favourite toy, despite the cold it brings.”

“But then it deteriorates.” Louis’s head snapped ‘round to look at him, like he’d forgotten what Harry’s voice sounded like, and he regrets saying anything at all. But Louis looks at him imploringly, begging him to continue, so he does, “We crave snow all winter, we look at it in wonder, then criticise its continued existence when it no longer suits our needs. We ignore it and destroy it and it becomes this mangled slush that nobody wants, and that gets in everybody’s way. Yes it’s beautiful, like most things, before we ruin it.”

Silence falls between them again, not quite awkward, but charged, as if they were surrounded by an electric current. They both know Harry’s talking about more than just snow. Louis slowly reached out to take his hand and pulled them to a stop. He turned to Harry and pulled him into a hug, arms around his neck and head resting against his arms, breathing warm air onto Harry’s collarbones. At first Harry didn’t know what to do, where to put his hand or anything, but when it became clear that Louis wasn’t pulling away anytime soon, Harry melted into his grasp, raised his arms to wrap around Louis’ waist.

The Yorkshire boy whispered in his ear, “Why have you been ignoring me?” Harry said nothing. Louis pulled back, putting a good few foot of distance between them. “Why did you run?”

Harry wanted to look away but Louis kept their gazes firmly locked, “I- I was… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Louis took a step towards him.

“That… that I was being ridiculous and making all this up in my head and…”

“And?” He took another step closer, dropping Harry’s hand and placing it on Harry’s hips, giving him a firm squeeze.

“And I couldn’t cope with having you right in front of me but not _having_ you. I thought it was all some joke to you or just a funny story between friends or… that I’d mess this up. Whatever this is.”

“What do you want this to be?”

“I dunno-”

“You do. You’re just too scared to say it in case I don’t feel the same way.” Louis raised up onto his tiptoes, something Harry found extremely endearing, “But I do.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. He didn’t want to sound cheesy, but every cliché was right. Fireworks and music and everything. Harry had kissed people before, and it had felt good, of course, but nothing had ever felt as right as kissing Louis. Harry had kissed other people a lot more intense than this, but this was probably the most intimate, _loving_ , moment of his life.

As they pulled away all Harry could think was _I love you_ , and based on the look on Louis face, Harry must have said that out loud. He started to panic, not wanting to have messed this _thing_ between them up three times before it even had a chance to be.

“I mean- What I mean… is … that-“

“I love you, too.”

Harry’s breath was knocked out of him with those simple words and all panic turned to a sense of joy he had never experienced before, “Um… really?”

Louis giggled, _actually giggled,_ at how bewildered Harry sounded, and nodded, “Yeah.”

At that Harry broke into a smile so wide that it hurt his cheeks, but that only reminded him that all this wasn’t a dream. It was real. Louis _loved_ him.

“And I know you’re scared, Harry, but I want to make sure you’re never scared again.”

As Harry stood there grinning like an idiot, Louis rolled his eyes fondly, slid his palm up Harry’s chest and pulled him into a kiss by the nape of his neck. This kiss was less chaste then their last one, yet it was just as passionate and filled with so much… love… that it felt like they were meant to kiss each other, forever and always. Fitting together just so; Louis’ thin lips to Harry’s full ones.

Louis pulled away suddenly, a look of uncertainty and fear on his face, “Are you gonna run away again?”

Harry pecked him on the mouth, speaking against his lips, “No.”

He felt, rather than saw, Louis smile, “Are you gonna come home with me?” Every word sent a warm burst of air against Harry’s face, smelling like the chocolate cake they had had for dessert.

He pulled back and raised a hand to cup Louis’ jaw. Harry looked at the boy in front of him. The boy he loved more than anything else in the world, the boy who loved him back. This beautiful, angelic boy, whose voice rivalled the birdsong Harry heard from his window every morning, who lit up brighter than any Christmas tree and gave that light to everyone he encountered, who could change the weather with the flutter of his eyelashes. This Harry knew to be true, for as Louis blinked up at him, the lightest dusting of snow began to fall around them, settling itself on the very lashes that summoned it. Louis’ cheeks were tinted pink in the cold and his eyes shined with hopefulness.

The answer was clear.

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback it makes me so happy that you guys like it :D
> 
> Tumblr: [loadedlilo](http://loadedlilo.tumblr.com/)


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